Descent
by Kuroitaiyou-Shiroitsuki
Summary: Danny is spurned by the town he has sworn to protect after he allows a student body to be decimated. Out options, betrayed by his friends and hurt, he turns to the only other half ghost- Vlad Masters- for house and revenge.
1. The Descent: Betrayal

Descent

**AN: Hi again! Spring Break is over! Oh, the horror! I hate early mornings. With a passion. **

**Rated T for violence, and death. **

**One thing:**

Talking

_Thinking_

**Flashback (which I will proclaim! ^^)**

**Disclaimer: Danny Phantom does not belong to me, no matter what the voices in my head say!**

CHAPTER ONE: Descent

Danny's POV

'_Ties,' _Danny mused, _'were not so much formal dress wear as colorful fabric nooses.'_

He was vaguely surprised he had even remembered a tire in his sleep deprived rush this morning. Before him at one of the two long wooden tables sat a mousey elderly man with spectacles perched on his upturned nose. Runny eyes and stiff, stained tweed suits were his trademark. Danny seemed to lounge in his chair, compared to the rigid posture held by unintimidating lawyer. His parents hadn't paid for a lawyer, so the court had been reluctantly forced to give him one. Apparently, this relic was the best the government could afford.His lips twitched.

If his lawyer was a mouse, the angry parents of Amity Park's representative was a lion- tall, proud, sophisticated, with fierce topaz eyes and an equally fierce pointed nose. Her ivory ruffled shirt was buttoned all the way up to her hooked nose chin, paired with a black pencil skirt and sensible matte black shoes. Greying orange hair was pulled back in a severe bun, with two curls tugged free to frame her heart-shaped face. Impressive, and scary.

A brief plastic smile touched his thin lips, not reaching his eyes, as he scanned the crowd futilely in search of support. Every face was impassive and in each eye he could see his reflection grow more and more flustered. Angular face flushing, dark hair sticking out in jagged exclamation points, sweaty bangs plastered to his forehead by sweat, and baby blue eyes widened almost comically. White knuckled hands clutched the wooden pedestal like it was a life line. His three pillars of support had turned against him, betrayed him, and three pairs of eyes, one green, two amethyst mocked him. His parents had refused to come though they had thoughtfully provided the ecto-restraints, which he could so easily snap if the fancy stuck him. Next to him loomed the judge, a powerful imposing presence in his flowing robes, and the gavel clenched in his bony hands.

"Mr. Fenton, how long have you been possessed by the malevolent ghost Danny Phantom?" inquired the strict, chipper voice of the female lawyer, turning Danny's attention to her. Exasperation and irritation trickled through him, hot and sharp.

"Never! I already told you, when I was fourteen, I was pressured into checking out my family's faulty portal by my headstrong best friend and accidentally pushed the on button within it. As a result, I was fried by an inordinate amount of ectoplasm, half killing me and fusing to my DNA in the process, creating my alter ego, Danny Phantom." Impatience edged the teen's voice.

"How do you explain the attacks you've committed against your hometown?" asked the lawyer smirking with barely concealed contempt.

"The property damage was mostly caused by multiple battles with rogue ghosts and thus necessary. Any people put in danger was inadvertent and I tried my best to either avoid it or to remove them from harm's way."

"Yes, but what about when you held the mayor hostage?"

"Or when you robbed the jewelry stores and banks?"

Random people in the crowd began voicing their questions heatedly.

Frazzled and weary, Danny answered, "At the time, the mayor was being overshadowed by the ghost sheriff Walker and he was actually grabbing me. Couldn't you tell that his eyes were glowing and unnatural red?" There was a collective murmur of assent, and grumbles filled the courtroom.

"As for the thing with Freakshow, Frederich Isak Show'enhower had a staff that could control ghosts, and as an extension, half-ghosts. He made me steal and torchure other ghosts along with the rest of his circus troupe under the guise of Circus Gothica. It was not voluntary."

Not unlike sharks sensing easy meat the lawyer swam in for the kill, "Would you say ghost activity has increased since you 'became' Danny Phantom?"

"Yeah, but—."

"And it's possible that certain characters could force you to commit heinous crimes?"

"Yes, but—."

"Then it would be best for the community as a whole if Danny Phantom didn't exist."

"No, wait listen! You don't understand! The town will be overrun without me! And Phantom IS me! You can't just rip half of me out! There are consequences to—."

"Danny Phantom is menace to society and as such is henceforth banned and will be removed from one Daniel Fenton, and destroyed." The gavel rang through the satisfied courtyard like nails being hammered into a coffin. Horror rocked the teen. He looked at his stoic, silent friends.

"Sam? Tuck?" he pleaded plaintively. They remained mute, as though someone had cut out their tongues. Desperately, he turned to his sister.

"Jazz?"

No response. Nodding dejectedly, he went ghost, dissolving the weak bonds easily to a chorus of gasps, not even saying his catch phrase. People began screaming and staring around wildly, while others reached for weapons.

"Fine, then. I won't let you tear me apart. From now on, Danny Fenton, and Danny Phantom no longer exist

With these parting words he teleported away, knowing that there was nothing more he could do, and not wishing to look upon those TRAITORS any longer, leaving behind only a light green mist.

Sam's POV

Sam slumped forward, the tears pooling in her eyes finally spilling over. Tucker reached over awkwardly and placed a comforting hand on her shaking shoulder. Eyes glassy, Jazz just stood there as if she intended to never move again. It couldn't be helped, not after yesterday, even if it was an accident.

**Sam's Flashback!**

**Danny had been fighting more ruthless ghosts lately, ones that had no problem killing the innocent and certainly no problem sending Danny home in a matchbox.**

**It had been an extremely foggy day. The ground melded into the sky, and the surroundings were just variations of grey shadow. Even your hand held in front of your face had been unfamiliar. It had struck suddenly, catching the populace of Amity Park unaware. As such, school hadn't been canceled.**

**Danny had been leading a ghost away from an elementary school, and, even with his enhanced sense of direction, had been turned about in the cloaking mist. They had ended up at a kindergarten. Danny was sore and weakened by that time, barely flying, much less in a straight line. He had saved some, but, nevertheless, the carnage had been brutal. **

**All those little bodies, broken and played with like a macabre puppet show, skin slowly turning blue, eyes empty, marionettes with clipped strings. Porcelain dolls discarded by careless giants, shattered and bloody. In his despair and rage, Danny had killed the waste of ectoplasm with his Ghostly Wail. And, exhausted and in full view of the cameras toted by the arriving newscasters, Danny Phantom had revealed himself to be none other than Daniel Fenton.**

**His parents had shut themselves away in the lab, their endless obsession with work stilled by trauma. None were sure whether it was self-hatred for trying to destroy their own son molecule by molecule or disgust at what their own inventions had made.**

**The answer came when the Elder Fentons agreed to split the two Daniels if that was the will of Amity Park, and the sporadic explosions picked up once more, as if they had never quit, this time (at least to Danny) with a more sinister intent.**

**Sam, Tucker, and Jazz had come to the conclusion that the danger for average citizens had become too risky. The mortality rates had been rising dramatically. Trouble seemed to seek Danny out, as he was a magnet for ghosts searching for a fight. The damage that these brawls inflicted on the town was too great. They figured it the abandoned him, he would leave voluntarily—not as some last act of heroism. If it was his integrity making him leave, he would eventually return and so would Amity's problems. They would not give him the chance to change his mind, nor theirs with a well-placed argument against his dispatch.**

Obviously, their plan had worked—a little too well if his declaration was any marker. Suddenly, a shadow passed over the trio's hearts and they shuddered. They worried for their future, fear touching their minds. But only for an instant, then, joints creaking like an old persons', they filed out of the room with the rest of the crowd; blending in and becoming faceless among the multitudes. Almost wishing they could have done something different, not betrayed him. Almost.

**AN: This will be the first multi-chaptered thing I've ever had published! I'm excited! I would enjoy some feedback. All you have to do is push that beautiful blue button there. XD**

**-peace,**

**Kuroitaiyou-Shiroitsuki**


	2. The Descent: The Dreaming

Descent

**AN: Thank you reviewers for your wonderful feedback! It makes a new writer less apprehensive about writing which is virtually priceless. **

**Rated T for mature content including but not limited to violence, death, suicide, murder and rape**

**One thing:**

Talking

_Thinking_

**Flashback (which will not be proclaimed this time! It messes with my mojo)**

_**Dreamscape!**_

_**The voice!**___

**Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom, though is currently a bounty on a certain wishing ghost's head.**

CHAPTER TWO: The Dreaming

Danny's POV

The halfa reappeared in a sparsely furnished run-down hotel room—chipped plaster walls met cement in an odd visual hodgepodge and wires hung from the sagging ceiling. A nasal hum thrummed through the thing walls. Lumpy and flat, a mattress barely fit for a dog lay on the tightly coiled rusty springs, tense like a cobra ready to strike, barely weighing it down.

Danny's face was a bewildered mass of emotion. Storm clouds of anger darkened his pale face, mixed with sorrow infused gray sheets of rain. His eyes were cold lightening, and guilt camped in the depressed yet determined set of his mouth. He seemed rooted to the spot. Danny closed his eyes, screwing up his face, and fists, then relaxed all of it at once. Arms hung slack at his sides.

Of all the possible outcomes, out of all the lines he had rehearsed in his head, nothing could have prepared him for the pain of seeing his impassive friends. They had not drifted from him gradually over a period of time, nor had there been any sign of discontent. The most trusted people in his life had just deserted him. Thrown up walls against his advances. He didn't understand where he had done or where he had gone wrong. A little voice in the back of his head said that they wouldn't have done that without a reason, but he squashed it. If there had been an underlying purpose, surely they would have told him.

Grief was consumed by a mad rush a fury, consuming his heart. Whirling, he slammed a balled up fist into a section of cement wall, splitting his knuckles and drawing blood. Breathing heavily, the teen watched entranced by the spectacle of sinew stretching over exposed bone, muscle reforming, and skin pulling taut over both. The awful clarity that comes with pain sharpened his mind.

But even with his troubled mind forcibly steadied, turmoil arrested his heart.

After all he had done for them this was his reward? He spent nearly every waking minute of his life on this town—and for what? What did he have to show for his efforts? Grades that were allowed to fall, causing his possible future career to slip down the drain? Countless sleepless nights? Innumerable injuries? A distinct lack of free time? Constant lectures on everything his hectic lifestyle had led him to slack on? Being shoved in lockers?

Just yesterday, he would have said even having Sam smile at him, or seeing the pride in his techno-geek friend's and psychologist sister's eyes had been enough to make the hero gig worthwhile. He could suffer the pain, the humiliation, the ungratefulness, and the fear every day because he had known that some people were on his side; some people had his back; some people understood.

But now? There was no support. If he stayed it wouldn't be heroic, it would be stupid the equivalent of standing before an axe-murderer and saying 'kill me next.' It wouldn't make him a martyr, just a suicidal fool. There wasn't a safe house here anymore; it was all hostile territory. Danny would truly need to leave Amity Park.

And his parents? He had lived for a few years under the assumption that his parents would either accept him or blatantly disown him; try to rip him apart molecule by molecule. He hadn't expected the silence, ominous and unsettling. The intensity similar to when you're watching a horror movie and you know that something is going to jump out and make you nearly leave your skin behind on the couch and upset the popcorn. The only pressing question, the one that makes you glare suspiciously at every shadow and looming corner, is when. It put him on edge, the waiting, like a sharp prickling inside his skin. There was absolutely no way he could go home. He would constantly be waiting for the other shoe to drop, standing in the calm before the storm ready for the winds to rise and dash him against the rocks. He was alone.

_Alone_. Now there was a scary thought. He had never truly been alone before this moment. Even on family trips in the R.V. there would be the comforting knowledge resting at the back of his mind that at the end of this voyage he could come home. Right now, home was a shattered thing and he was left drifting.

Trying to drown out his clamoring thoughts through movement, Danny flung his burned orange duffel bag onto the bed; it made a soft sound as it landed and the springs creaked ominously. Danny yanked open the decrepit plywood wardrobe he had thrown his luggage, pell-mell, into earlier. Frowning at his regular outfit, Danny pushed the various articles of clothing aside. In the back was his only black tee shirt—from the Freakshow incident as he had never gotten around to throwing it out—and a darker washed pair of jeans.

Letting the white blue rings wash over him, starting at the waist and heading in opposite directions—repulsed magnets—Danny felt the comfort of human weight settle on him heavy on his bones. Black Hazmat suit and white belt gave way before his dark gray suit and blue button down shirt. Light tan skin paled to ivory, luminescent green eyes subverted to a shade reminiscent of the sky at noon as though some god had carved a piece from the heavens and set them in his eyes, wintery locks were exchanged for raven and tall white boots melted away into his signature old red high-top converse, frayed, slightly threadbare and coming apart at the soles.

Stripping swiftly, he shrugged into the other outfit, ignoring his shoes completely. Grabbing the entire piles of other clothes, the halfa dropped it next to the cot. Danny shoved all the necessities and then some extra clothing into the duffel bag haphazardly.

What else did he need? A few extra Fenton thermoses would be useful. That would unfortunately mean entering Fenton Works. A strange feeling settled at the base of his spine. Danny gulped.

'_Might as well get it over with,' _Danny figured, shaking his head.

Transitioning into Phantom, he teleported onto the edge of the Fenton property. Danny stared up at the familiar building with its gaudy neon sign and op center towering over the rest of the neighborhood. The teen walked forward only to be met with resistance in the form of an invisible ghost shield that flickered into brief visibility as he bumped it, streamers of hissing light dancing along the great green dome as it electrocuted him and the smell of fried hair floated in the sky. He stared at his human fingers, speechless; the shield apparently had the same qualities as the Plasmius Maximus. Danny put out a cautionary hand and sighed when he met no barrier. He ghosted towards the front door. As quiet as the dead, he twisted the doorknob and stepped inside the air conditioned interior of the quiet house. Navigating his way towards the lab, he kept his eyes peeled for movement whether by his parents or modified anti-ghost defenses.

Fate seemed to be toying with the halfa, allowing him safe passage through the house he had grown up in while tearing everything away from the teen simultaneously. Danny struggled to hold himself aloof from the sorrow that beat at him from the two faced tendencies of Destiny that made it so a place full of precious memories and warm smiles, had turned so cold towards him.

Slipping down the dark steps, Danny stepped into the lab, where shadows played terrible games amidst the glow of various mechanical devices. The lab was less than sterile, clutter stored in sturdy cardboard boxes and scattered across metal surfaces. Many were in different states of completions, mixed with several power tools and vials of all different shapes and sizes, some filled with mysterious and deadly substances—at least to ghosts. In one corner, adjacent to the Fenton Ghost Portal, crouched the Fenton Ghostcatcher, which shone with an eerily bright aura. Danny eyed it warily.

Swiftly approaching one of the counters, Danny collected some of the green 'F' emblazoned soup containers. As he ran his fingers along the grooves in the smooth metal plane nostalgia welled within him. A smile tugged on his lips as he remembered Jazz's knack for missing every ghost but him when she first joined 'Team Phantom.' Soft chuckles escaped him as he remembered the laughable nicknames she had dubbed many ghostly villains with. So many memories were associated with one inanimate object. The first rule they had made regarding ghost hunting had been to 'never let Tucker hold the thermos. A line rippled through his mind. '**That's Tucker Foley, T.F. for Too Fine.' **Sam and Tucker were always there as back up. Sam was always so headstrong and full of information that often proved priceless in many battles. Tucker was never without his sense of humor and his PDA was a fine math for any weapon in his capable hands. They made the best team, and he wouldn't have traded a moment with them for anything.

Something landed on the hands clenched tight around the canister. Danny blinked and brought one hand up to his face in wonderment. His cheeks were stained with the salty tracks of tears, drops falling steadily to dampen his jeans.

'_Get a grip, Fenton!' _he told himself.

The teen got to his feet—when had he slumped to the ground?—and retraced his steps. It wasn't until he had reached a point past the ghost shield that he realized something that had been constantly nagging him through his entire errand.

'_Why wasn't Dad snoring?' _Danny thought.

The comforting rumble of his Dad's chainsaw like snore had been mysteriously absent. As if in answer to his thoughts, two nightwear clad figures came into the light. Danny found it impossible to call them 'Mom' or 'Dad'—even in his head—as the line between his parents and these two characters was infinitely thick.

Maddie's hair was not in its normal sophisticated style, instead it was frizzy and floated around her head as though she had abandoned common sense and put her finger in an electrical socket. Her wide purple eyes were crazy and unfocused, and she had managed to nearly completely avoid her lips while applying make-up. Bunny slippered feet stuck out from beneath her fuzzy, pink bathrobe.

Beside her, Jack's normally boisterous attitude had been exchanged for a pair of steely blue eyes and a serious countenance. There was a deadly determined set to his jaw and he loomed menacingly for all of his striped nightgown.

The couple wielded large ectoguns, Maddie's slender and compact, in perfect counter point with Jack's hulking monstrosity, and both barrels pointed at Danny's head.

"What the hell are you doing here, ghost?" Maddie hissed hatred sparking across her mad eyes.

Alarms rang throughout Danny's entire being, screaming at him to run, run for his half-life. Against the clamor of his instincts and his better judgment, the teen tried to reason with the ghost-hunters.

"I'm your son! I'm Danny! You wouldn't hurt me! Right?" He pleaded desperately, his frantic cries were swallowed by the night.

"No son of mine is a ghost!" Jack snarled, pure unadulterated rage spewing from his venomous tone.

"You can still be our son, Danny!" exclaimed Maddie suddenly, an unnatural lilt in her voice, "Just come here, Danny! Let us get that nasty ghost out of you. Come here, baby, let Mommy help you!" Gun held slack, she spread out her arms, hands splayed.

But her eyes sparkled greedily and Danny could almost see her imagining him already laid on the surgical table, no anesthesia, lights blinding him, restraints holding him down as she slowly sliced him open with a gleaming silver scalpel, all the while murmuring—deaf to his howls of pain.

"_Mommy's sorry, baby. Mommy wants to see how a half-ghost works. You'll let Mommy see, won't you? Mommy loves you."_

Trembling violently, Danny backed away, raising his hands in a placating gesture, and shaking his head jerkily. At the same time, Danny probed within himself for the cold of his core to begin his transformation, but, as if he was trying to clear a sheer cliff of slick glass, his fingers scrabbled for purchase, the effects of the ghost shield still working. He rammed against the barrier, aghast with the knowledge that he was at the mercy of his currently insane parents.

Maddie's falsely brightly hopeful expression collapsed and morphed into a mask of hatred in under a minute.

"Then we'll do this the hard way—JACK!"

"I gotcha, baby!" Jack immediately aimed and commenced firing at the stunned teen.

It was a horrible parody of all the times they had been so endearing in their incompetence. Now it was cementing into cold reality as they aimed to murder with the face of Death.

His shock hindered his movements and as he clumsily dodged one of the bursts of green, it grazed his shoulder. He bit his lip to keep his cries inside as it exploded into searing agony. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction. Red blood dribbled down his lips under the pressure of his teeth and at the sight of the blood his so-called parents were driven into frenzy at the sight of it.

Stumbling backwards and turning to flee, he battered frantically at the wall between himself and his powers, relief flooded him as his assault was unimpeded and he accessed his ghost half. Coldness spread from within his very core and radiated to every finger-tip.

Danny took to the sky, blasts skimming by him, some no more than a hair's width from contact. He fled the relic of what had once been his sanctuary, relishing in the fantastic feel of wind in his snowy hair even as loss ate away at his heart.

Below him, Jack never ceased his consistent fire, while Maddie yelled wildly.

"Come back! Mommy won't hurt you!

Closing his stinging eyes, Danny let the calm of the city night envelope him for a while as he regained his composure. The sky was always his escape as sleep was more interrupted than not. Stars twinkled from their lofty perch and the moon hung low in the velvet night. Danny's own phosphorescence brightened the deeply purple swath of sky. Sighing, Danny teleported back the constricting hole in the wall hotel room.

Casing the room rapidly, he assured himself of his solitude and moved to the bed, adding the thermoses he had somehow managed to hold onto in the bulging bag. Then he turned his attention to his shoulder. The burned path was already healed, the new skin tender and red. Dismissing it from his mind, the teen zipped up the bag and came to the conclusion that he couldn't solve his problems by avoiding them. He had to sit down, think logically, make a plan; he couldn't very well up and leave without a destination in mind.

Where could he go? The Ghost Zone was not even close to a safe haven, though the halfa was on good terms with a few ghosts, most of the residents there still wanted to rip him limb from limb. He was sure Princess Dora—or was that Queen Dora now?—and the Far Frozen would be overjoyed to have him stay for any prolonged amount of time, but he wouldn't want to impose on them long term. It didn't bode well with his conscience. Aunt Alicia would most likely notify his parents if he were to show up at her doorstep—erm, trailer—and living in the wilderness without proper plumbing didn't appeal to him.

'_Seriously, who doesn't have a toilet?'_

That, unfortunately, left one option. Danny glared balefully at the metallic object sitting on his 'bed.' Deciding that he never had a chance in a staring contest against an inanimate object, the teen reluctantly picked up the phone. It sat curiously heavily in his hand. Scrolling through the contacts, he pushed a number and held it up to his ear.

"Hello?" came the impatient voice of Vlad Masters, world's richest frootloop. Highlighting his arrogance, at least in Danny's mind, the man hadn't even give his name, giving the impression that if one had his number than that person must be important enough to already know who he was calling.

"Hey, Vlad," Danny said awkwardly.

"Daniel?" surprise saturated his cultured voice. The use of his birth name rather than his nickname never ceased to be a point of irritation for the younger halfa. Danny gritted his teeth. "How did you manage to get this number, Little Badger? You aren't, by any chance, calling to renounce your oaf of a father and take me up on my offer?"

The slur about his father paired with that insufferable nickname caused Danny to react habitually, overlooking the ill-concealed hope in Vlad's voice.

"Not a chance, frootloop! Get yourself a cat. You seriously need a new hobby. Sheesh!" Danny spat.

"Then what reason could you possibly have for calling me at this unholy hour if not for a declaration of exchanged fealty? If it was to insult me, I will have you know that you have made a grave mistake, waking me up at three forty-seven for a petty exchange of your so-called witty banter. I am not in the mood." Vlad snapped evenly, the controlled pitch of his tone making him all the more intimidating. Who knew when he would snap?

"No! This isn't a prank call!" Danny backpedalled quickly.

"What have you called me for, then?"

"Er… um… I…" Danny stuttered.

"Out with it. I am not going to spend the next fifteen minutes listening to you stammer." Annoyance crept along the edges of his voice.

"I-I need… I need a place to stay," Danny hung his head in shame at having to resort to asking Vlad of all people.

"And your immediate response was to phone me?" Vlad was nonplussed, startling him into speaking his thoughts. "Wouldn't you rather stay with either of your friends, Miss Samantha Manson and Mr. Tucker Foley? Why exactly are you searching for a place to stay at this unconventional hour?"

Wishing he could disassociate on the spot, Danny forced him to recount the events of the last two days.

"Amity… found out about me being a halfa. They turned on me and decided to rip out my ghost half and destroy it. Of course, I ran away before they could try anything. Tucker and Sam have betrayed me. As for my Mom and Dad, they just tried to kill me. They want to dissect and examine me." Danny explained, "So, yeah, I'm asking for a place to stay. Will you let me live with you?"

A hollow emptiness answered him, large and suffocating, and the teen inspected the phone in his hands suspiciously, wondering if he had lost his connection.

"Vlad?" he questioned.

Hoarsely, Vlad responded, "I'm so… sorry Daniel. Yes, yes of course you can live with me. The Maddie would attempt to murder her own son…" He trailed off.

Danny felt hope blossom in him, and the teen felt lighter for it.

"Thank you! Thank you so much!" he said fervently.

"You're welcome, Daniel. Do you have a place to sleep tonight?" Vlad had genuine concern in his voice something Danny had never heard, nor even truly believed, the elder halfa was capable of. Awestruck, he stared blankly at the phone.

"Daniel?"

"Oh! Yeah, I have a place to stay tonight." Danny replied.

"I'll send someone in the morning for you then, hmmm?"

Danny thanked him once more and gave him the address to the hotel, and then bade him goodnight.

"Goodnight, Vlad."

"Goodnight, Little Badger."

The line went dead and Danny realized he hadn't said anything about the 'nickname' Vlad had given him. Suddenly, exhaustion pounced, sinking its teeth into the very fiber of his being, stemming from lack of sleep and emotional strain. Thoughts revolved to a slow stop as his eyes seemed to gain many pounds rapidly.

The teen threw himself onto the bed accompanied with the pleasant audial cacophony of shrieking metal and a choking cloud of dust. It rose and fell in an unmelodic mixture of crescendos and decrescendos as Danny strained to find a comfortable position. The halfa didn't notice the black blanket of sleep descending on him until he was suddenly in a tunnel.

_**His feet slapped against the damp, gritty, blue-black stone. It was as dark as pitch in the cavern. Stalagmites and stalactites dripped water into trapped pools of water, echoing oddly.**_

_**The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stood on end as the feel of being watched multiplied within him. Chinese lanterns burned into existence, fire crackled into their paper depths. Instantly, everything became distorted. As though Danny's vision was blurring, foggy afterimages, imprints of everything including the hand Danny held in front of his face, swam behind the clearer true object. Menacing laughter filled his ears.**_

_**On the wall a sheet of white light formed into the image of Jazz and his parents. Making breakfast in the kitchen, Maddie turned toward Jazz, whom sat at the table with Jack, putting her at a three-fourths profile towards the invisible camera. The picturesque family chatted inanely. The bright fluorescence of the kitchen lighting changed to a deep crimson but his family remained oblivious. As he watched, they melted, skin dripped from their bones, muscle and marrow liquidized, blood boiled and vaporized. Their eyes were eaten away from the heat of an unknown force. Bones blackened, turned to ash, and blew away. They had been sitting calmly and smiling the entire time. **_

_**Gagging and shaken, Danny screamed, "MOM! DAD! JAZZ!**_

_**A whispered voice, deep and paralyzing, taunted him, "**__**I'm inevit-vit-vitable**__**." The words were broken oddly, almost surreal.**_

_**Another white screen grew at another spot along the wall. Unsteady legs carried the teen to the next snapshot of hell.**_

"_**Sam!" he whispered in horror, "Tucker! Valerie!**_

_**Tucker was being eaten alive, PDA smashed beside him along with a ravaged arm, wailing in unspeakable agony, by a ghost which had its back to him. All of the ghosts did. Sam was being raped by another malicious ghost. Blood matted her hair and her eyes were glazed, defeated. She looked comatose, not even fighting the ghost that was ravishing her. She had given up recently, it appeared, by the blood that still gushed from her torn or missing fingernails, and the bruised that mottled her arms, black, blue and terrible. Danny's eyes burned and bright green at her state and bloodlust roared within him as he itched to tear the ghost apart.**_

_**Valerie shrieked and his gaze snapped to her. Surrounded by ghosts that chuckled lewdly, she cradles her broken arm to her heaving chest. She raised he ectogun and shot at the ghosts, but they continued advancing, ignorant of their injuries.**_

"_**Go AWAY!" she yelled defiantly, "Go away, you BASTARDS"**_

_**As the first undead hands brushed her, she glanced at Tucker and Sam, and resolve darkened her eyes. Three final beams of light streaked from the barrel of her gun, silencing Tuck, Sam and herself forever. The screen didn't dissolve until they all had been devoured, leaving behind scattered bones and puddles of blood.**_

_**Danny retching filled the dank cave, and his enormous horrified eyes covered the entirety of his face. He sank numbly to the ground. His surroundings disintegrated and reformed around him, a desiccated landscape, war ravaged. The rubble of formerly tall buildings littered the ground, and partially demolished ruins seemed on the verge of toppling. The black of the pavement was cracked and entire strips were missing as though some enormous animal had gouged great claws into the very earth leaving enormous trenches behind. Totaled cars with fractured windshields, missing mirrors, and more extensive damage were abandoned in a zigzagging line, some doors left wide open. Fliers and other scraps of paper flitted through the sand coated air. It was eerily post-apocalyptic. Spinning on the spot, Danny saw a well-known unlit, neon sign.**_

"_**The Nasty Burger!" Danny exclaimed and whipped back around searching for the one that was sure to be here of all places.**_

"_**I'm still here**__**," whispered the voice, directly into his ear.**_

_**With a horrible staticy whirring noise, the dismembered, decapitated corpses of his loved ones appeared besides the scorched cement, nearly disappeared, then steadied again.**_

"_**I still exist**__**," the disembodied voice continued.**_

_**Something wet dripped from his arms. Glancing down, he gasped. Bloody streaks marred his clothes. The scenery before him melded into a mirror and Danny gasped for breaths of air that was suddenly filled with the aroma of rotting and burning flesh.**_

_**The halfa was standing on a tall, smoldering pile of dead people. Faces he knew and faces he didn't. Some were charred past recognition or completely disfigured. Heads were turned at unnatural angles, and bones were shattered sticking through the skin like pale knives or wrenched from their sockets. Sam, Tucker, Jazz, Maddie, Jack, Valerie, Mr. Lancer, Paulina, Dash, Kwan, Star, Nathan, and even some of the reporters on ghost attacks made a grotesque pyramid beneath his boots. But none of this was what horrified him so thoroughly. It was himself.**_

_**Danny's regular powder blue or ghostly green eyes now gleamed an evil red, and his hair crackled in white flames about his head, with a small ponytail at the nape of his neck. Fangs glinted sickly in his gaping mouth that concealed his forked tongue, tainted with dried blood. A metallic taste filled his mouth, an oddly desirable combination of iron and salt. He was an exact replica of his evil future self.**_

"_**That means you still turn into me**__**."**_

_**The malevolent laughter floated, tangible in the air couple with Danny's scream of recognition.**_

"_**NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!**_

**AN: And Vlad enters the scene! SQUUUEEEEE! Please give me tips on how I should breathe life into Vlad's "voice." Thank you so much for reading and sitting through my second chapter. The next chapter probably won't come out as quick as this unless a barrel full of the bricks of inspiration drops on my head once again. XD **

**Peace,**

**KS**__


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